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WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



BY 



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THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY, ESQ. 



AUTHOR OF 



•HE SECOND VOLUME OF " FLOWERS OF LOVELINESS," " PERFECTION, 
" THE BARRACK ROOM," " A GENTLEMAN IN DIFFICULTIES," &C. 



Fie on't ! Oh fie ! — 'tis an umveeded garden." 



LONDON: 
PUBLISHED BY ACKERMANN AND CO. 

1837. 



/'J 7 



LONDON : 
P. SHCBERT. : JUN , LEICESTER STREET, LEICESTER SQUARP, 



TO 



THEODORE HOOK, ESQ. 



Dear Hook, 

Those who only know you 
as the Author, unrivalled in the path which 
you have chosen, may wonder at my temerity 
in dedicating these " Weeds " to you. 

But, with a grateful recollection of your 
warmth of heart and disinterested friendship, 
I avail myself of the first opportunity of sub- 
scribing myself 

Your obliged and attached friend, 

THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY. 

Athenaeum Club. 
January 1st, 1837. 



PREFACE. 



May the Author of many successful comic 
dramas, and many popular serious Ballads, 
venture to solicit indulgence from the Critic ? 

Versatility is one thing, but, alas ! Verse- 
utility another. Yet, after trespassing upon the 
Public from the days of Boyhood, it is something 
to be able to say that he has not written a line, 
which, from its moral tendency, he could wish 
to blot. For other errors, he would willingly 
cancel many. No Author is more indebted to 
the indulgence of the Public. 



WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



THE SEA PINK. 



J Ve a yacht in the Island, the Sea Pink, of Ryde, 

Not a craft in the Club can be better ; 
I own when she goes very much on one side, 

I'm afraid that the wind will upset her : 
I belong to the Club, which is very genteel — 

We ne'er let a Scamp or a Shab in ; 
But though it's the fashion, I own that I feel 

More at ease in my Cab than my Cabin ! 

Tis true, I know little of nautical ways, 

And less about charts of the ocean ; 
And what's rather odd, on the quietest days 

I always grow queer with the motion ! 
I've sunk a large sum on the toy, and 'tis well 

If the toy and I don't sink together : 
Oh ! talking of sinking — nobody can tell 

What I suffer in very bad weather ! 



8 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 

When I sigh for the Land, Sailors talk of "sea room," 

All sense of propriety lacking ; 
And they gave me a knock -me-down blow with the 
boom, 

T'other day, in the hurry of tacking. 
I sported one morning a water- proof cap, 

And a Mackintosh — all India rubber ; 
And a Sailor cried, "Jack, look at that ere queer chap, 

Did you ever see such a land-lubber ? " 

What a bother the wind is ! one day we were caught 

In a bit of a breeze in the offing ; 
And we tack'd, and we tack'd, till I verily thought 

Every tack was a nail in my coffin ! 
Cried one, " Never fear, we shall soon reach the shore," 

(To me that word reach is pathetic ! ) 
I've heard of perpetual Blisters before, 

But I've an eternal Emetic ! 

The Captain and Crew are of course in my pay, 

I expect them to pay me attention ; 
But they push me about, and they now and then say 

Little words it would shock me to mention ! 
The smell of the tar I detest, and I think 

That the sea-breeze quite spoils the complexion, 
But the ladies all say, when they've seen the Sea Pink, 

That her Owner's the Pink of Perfection. 



THE POPPY. 9 



THE POPPY. 

Oh proud am I, exceeding proud, I've mustered the Elite! 
I'll read them my new Tragedy — no ordinary treat ; 
It has a deeply-stirring plot — the moment I commence 
They'll feel for my sweet Heroine an interest intense ; 
It never lags, it never flags, it cannot fail to touch ; 
Indeed, I fear the sensitive may feel it over much ; 
But still a dash of pathos with my terrors I combine, 
The bright reward of tragic Bard — the laurel will be mine ! 

Place chairs for all the company, and, Ma'am, I really think 
If you don't send that child to bed he will not sleep a wink ; 
I know he'll screech like anything before I've read a page ; 
My second act would terrify a creature of that age : 
And should the Darling, scared by me, become an Imbecile, 
Thoughflatter'd&t the circumstance — how sorry I should 

feel ! 
What ! wont you send the child to bed? well, Madam, 

we shall see ; — 
Pray take a chair, and now prepare the laurel crown for me. 



10 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 

Have all got pocket-handkerchiefs ? your tears will fall 

in streams ; 
Place water near to sprinkle over any one who screams ; 
And pray, good People, recollect, when what I've said 

controuls 
Your sympathies, and actually harrows up your souls ; 
Remember, (it may save you all from suicide, or fits,) 
'Tis but a mortal man who opes the flood-gates of his wits ! 
Retain your intellects to trace my brightest gem, {my 

moral) 
And, when I've done, I'm very sure you'll wreathe my brow 

with laurel. 

Hem — " Act the first , and scene the first — a wood — Bum- 

rumpti enters — 
Bumrumpti speaks, ' And have I then escaped from my 

tormentors ? 
Revenge ! revenge ! oh, were they dead, and / a carrion 

crow, 
Td pick the flesh from off their bones, I'd sever toe from toe ! 
Shall fair Fryfritta, pledged to me, her plighted vow recall, 
And wed with hated Snookums or with any man at all ! 
No — rather perish earth and sea, the sky and — all the 

rest of it — 
For wife to me she swore she'd be, and she must make 

the best of it.'" 



THE POPPY. 11 

Through five long acts — ay, very long, the happy Bard 

proceeds ; 
Without a pause, without applause, scene after scene he 

reads ! 
That silent homage glads his heart ! it silent well may be ; 
Not one of all his slumbering friends can either hear or see ! 
The anxious Chaperon is asleep ! the Beau beside the Fair ! 
The dog is sleeping on the rug ! the cat upon the chair ! 
Old men and babes — the Footman, too ! oh, if we crown 

the Bard, 
We'll twine for him the Poppy wreath, his only fit reward. 



12 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



FORGET MY KNOT ! 

Forget my knot ! forget my knot ! 

Oh, that I may defy ! 
Where'er you are, I'll haunt the spot, 

Still pointing to the tie. 

All other ties may loosen'd be, 
But mine must last till death ! 

And you I'll taunt incessantly, 
Until I'm out of breath. 

Each day delay on some pretence 

Was artfully extended ; 
And so, to finish my suspense, 

Myself I have suspended. 

At Hymen's altar, altered Fair, 
You were a false defaulter ; 

And so, to end my deep despair, 
I add an II to alter ! 



FORGET MY KNOT. 13 

I could not live to hear you scoff, 

Too fascinating elf; 
So, when I found you turned me off, 

I did turn off myself ! 

No scissars will avail ; we part — 

On human aid I frown ; 
And though you cut me to the heart, 

You shall not cut me down. 

I strive your inmost soul to grind, 

And, if I strive in vain, 
Hang me, if I for womankind 

E'er do the like again. 

They'll call me suicidical, 

Because this knot I tied ; 
When Jack is dead, let Sue recall 

How for his Sue he sigh'd ! 

To do this melancholy thing, 

Your garters I have got ; 
Adieu, false Sue, you'll have your swing ; 

And then— Forget my knot ! 



] 4 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



WATER LILIES. 

A boat, a boat, an open boat, 

On " the sea, the sea, the open sea ! " 
If e'er ye have been thus afloat, 

There's nought could match your misery ! 

Pale Water Lilies, you'd suppose, 

Poor Ladies, when such boats they enter ; 

The cheek, the pallid leaf; the nose, 
The spot of yellow in the centre ! 

Such Lilies, " pining on the stem," 
Or on the stern, are more or less ill ; 

The smell of tar is bad to them, 

And worse the pitching of the vessel. 

The spray, alas ! no jasmine spray ! 

Is weighing down each best new bonnet ; 
The hair is out of curl ; to-day 

The sea has all the curl upon it. 



WATER LILIES. 15 

Old Ocean ! thou art much too old, 

To be so rough and so unsteady ; 
Is this now — may I make so bold — 

A fit reception for a Lady ? 

Shallow thou'rt not ; then recollect, 

All this may seem more deep than clever : 

Be calm awhile, and thou'lt reflect ; 
Don't play at pitch and toss for ever ! 



16 WEEDS OF WITCHERY, 



WALLFLOWERS. 

" They call us Wall-flowers, my dear ! 
Because we spend the evening here, 
All in a row against the wall, 
Ne'er noticed by the men at all ! " 

" I'm sure it is no fault of ours, 
We do not wish to be Wall-flowers ; 
Not one of us that has not wanted 
To be by somebody transplanted : 
It never was our choice at all 
To sit here ranged against the wall ; 
But, if the men, devoid of taste, 
Will leave us here our sweets to waste, 
Selecting silly Pinks and Roses, 
To make their hymeneal posies, 
'Tis very fit that here we sit, 
And innocently chat a bit." 



WALLFLOWERS. IJ 

"■ Look at Miss Rose, she's just come in, 
Some people rave about her skin ! 
Her clear complexion ! (how absurd !) 
You know i" never say a word, 
But this I will say — (how she's scented !) 
I always thought the Roses painted." 

" And here I vow 's Miss Violet ; 
I ne'er could find her Beauty yet ! 
And how they praise her ! what a fuss 1 
Think of preferring her to us ! 
A little, dingy, paltry fright ! 
And what a gown for candle-light ! ' 

" Do see the Miss Carnations, there— 
Not two alike, I do declare — 
They're showy, but my sister thinks 
They are so like those little Pinks ; 
You see the likeness ? to be sure ; 
The Pinks we never could endure." 

" See, from the Valley comes Miss Lily ! 
Another Beauty ! — oh how silly ! 
White as a sheet, and so petite, 
No wonder we are obsolete 1 
For Wallflowers truly she 's no fellow — 
Men once were fond of brown and yellow ! " 

c 



18 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



CHICK WEEDS. 

My dear, stay here, I 'm quite in fear, 
Unless you all keep very near ; 
My groupe 's a little bit too large ; 
Nine daughters are so great a charge ! 
And though I know, where'er we go, 
The People think us quite a show ; 
They say — (I hate satiric tricks ! ) 
Look at the hen and her nine chicks ! 

Oh, there's Sir Charles ! I 'm certain he 
Will wed one of the Family ; 
And should he chuse, let none refuse, 
He 's not at all the match to lose ; 
No wonder that he can 't decide 
Which Daughter shall become his Bride, 
My charming Girls, I 'm bound to say, 
Are all so perfect in their way. 







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CHICK WEEDS. 19 

Don't stoop like that, my sweetest Rose ; 
Maria, dear, turn out your toes ; 
It gives me pain, my Angel Jane, 
To see your squint come back again ! 
Ann, what can make your nose so red ? 
Constantia, do hold up your head * 
f wish Kate's ancles were n't so thick ; 
Bess, keep your mouth shut, there 's a chick. 

How are you, dear Sir Charles ? so near ! 

Your praises did you overhear ? 

All female hearts you seem to touch ] 

My sweet girls praise you over much J 

Kate in particular ; poor Kate 

Has looked a leetie pale of late — 

Nay, now so red ! why whisper " Hush ! " 

What have I said to make her blush ? 

You '11 come to tea, Sir Charles ? you '11 see 
A most harmonious family : 
Bess plays the lute, Ann the guitar, 
Jane learns the harp of sweet Labarre ; 
Rose and Maria, if they 're prest, 
Make use of Broadwood's very best: 
Constantia sings, indeed we all 
Love Music : you are musical ? 

c 2 



20 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 

u I 'm musical," Sir Charles replied, 
And took his hat, and hem'd, and sigh'd ; 
u I 'm musical, and charmed to view 
Such harmony — dear Ma'am, adieu ; 
Oh what an orchestra for me, 
Could I wed all the Family ! 
Farewell — temptation let me shun, 
'Twould spoil the Band to marry one." 



-y^ 




THE HARE BELLE. 21 



THE HARE BELLE. 

No Hare Belle for me when the harriers run— 

If a Lady pursue them, that Lady I shun : 

When she leaves her own door, bring her shawl and her 

clogs ; 
If she follow the hounds, she may go to the Dogs. 

Away with the Hare Belle — the leaps that I see, 
No thought of a Lover's leap wakens in me ; 
For a gate of five bars will most certainly prove 
An effectual bar to my being in Love. 

Away with the Hare Belle, her habit, and hat ; 

No Lady shall win me with habits like that ; 

Bear Blue Belle and Hare Belle far hence o'er the flood ; 

The first with her Study, the last with her stud ! 

Away with the Hare Belle when fair lips I see ; 
Discoursing of Coursing sounds coarsely to me ; 
And the smack that I doat upon, (talking of lips) 
Is not, 1 assure you, the smacking of whips. 



22 WEEDS OF WITCHERY 



JOHN QUILL. 

John Quill was clerk to Robert Shark, a legal man was he, 
As dull, obscure, and technical as legal man could be ; 
And, perch 'd before his legal desk, Quill learnt the legal 

rules 
That give high principles to all who sit upon high stools ! 
John Quill with skill could doubt distil where all before 

was clear, 
One would suppose that he was born with a pen behind 

his ear ! 
Though merely clerk to Robert Shark, so great was his 

address, 
That many really thought J. Q. as knowing as R. S, 

John Quill, however small the job, huge drafts of deeds 

could draw, 
A puzzle quite to common sense, according to the law ; 
With vulgar, vile tautology to indicate his skill, 
He did "enlarge, prolong, extend, and add unto " the bill ! 



JOHN QUILL. 23 

And thus he did " possess, obtain, get, have, hold, and 

enjoy " 
The confidence of Robert Shark, who called him worthy 

Boy: 
Birds of a feather were the pair, the aim of both their 

breasts 
To pluck all others, plume themselves, and feather their 

own nests. 

But 'tis a theme too dark for jest ; oh ! let him who 

embarks 
Upon the troubled waters of the Law — beware of Sharks ; 
And such my dread of legal Quills, I readily confess 
That Quills of" fretful porcupine " would terrify me less. 
When poor men seek a legal Friend, the truth the Fable 

tells, 
The Lawyer eats the oyster up, the Client has the shells ; 
And could the shells be pounded to a palatable dinner, 
The legal Friend would swallow thai, and Clients might 

grow thinner. 



24 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



CORN FLOWERS. 

" The weather will change/' cries my Lady in pain, 
" My feet are in torture, I 'm sure there '11 be rain ; 
The Admiral whispered he 'd take me in tow, 
And he glanced at my feet as he said it, I know ; 
But now down at heel must my slipper be worn ! 
'Twill end in a cut ! Oh, this horrible corn !" 

A tight fit from Hoby the Captain has got, 
Engaged to walk out with Miss Laura Lamotte, 
But oh ! in his boot a Barometer lies ! 
His corn a sad change in the weather implies ! 
To limp is distraction ! " Oh ! why was I born ? 
In the flower of my youth I 'm cut up by a corn ! " 

The Belle is preparing to grace the Race Ball, 
Her foot is in anguish, her shoe is too small ! 
So partial to dancing, what is to be done ? 
How horrid the hopping and carrying one ! 
Cinderella's famed slipper of glass might be worn 
As a weather-glass now ! what a terrible corn ! 




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CORN FLOWERS. 25 

There's a moral in this which is found without trouble ; 
The light step of youth may get into a hobble ! 
The shoe may be silken, the sole may be thin, 
While the soul of the wearer is tortured within ! 
Where roses are sweetest most sharp is the thorn, 
And Terpsichore's harvest is — cutting a corn ! 



26 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



BULL RUSHES. 

The Fancy Fair ! The Fancy Fair ! 
The Fair I fancy governs there ; 
And fairest of the fair is she 
Who don't deny she fancies me : 
Among the Fair sex recollect 
Fair dealing you must not expect ; 
Whatever trash is to be sold, 
They give no change for notes or gold ! 

Each stall by some fair Dame is graced, 
Her store of toys before her placed : 
And as mere Traders, lest they fail 
To raise the wind, must puff the sale ; 
So with these trading amateurs 
A sigh attracts, a smile allures ; 
And can young men pay down loo much 
For trifles hallow'd by their touch? 



BULL RUSHES. 2J 

What fills the traders with affright ? 
What puts the customers to flight ? 
Why is the scene so sadly changed ? 
A Bull, exceedingly deranged, 
Alarms the Fairest of the Fair ! 
Bull rushes here, Bull rushes there ! 
No wonder each sweet voice he hushes — 
'Tis a toss up where Mad Bull rushes ! 



28 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



DEADLY NIGHTSHADE. 

I lay within a strange abode, and on a curtain'd bed, 
The lamp upon the tapestry a ghastly glimmer shed ; 
I could not doze, I could not sleep, \ heard the rats and mice ; 
My head was like a furnace, and my hands and feet like ice. 
I thought of all my evil deeds, and wished them all undone, 
I longed to hear the merry lark, and see the rising sun ; 
I heard the hooting of the owl, the ticking of the clock, 
And the door did shake, while something seem'd to fidget 
with the lock ! 

I wanted much to ring the bell to summon man or maid, 
I did not thrust a finger forth because I was afraid ; 
I longed to call out lustily, but not a word I said, 
I grasped the blankets and the sheets and held them o'er 

my head. 
I heard a most alarming noise, I never heard the like, 
Just as the turret- clock struck twelve ! a horrid hour to 

strike ! 
And down my chimney screeching came a most malignant 

Fiend — 
I sat up trembling in my bed — good gracious, how he 

grinn'd ! 



DEADLY NIGHTSHADE. 29 

Upon the marble mantelpiece there flared a globe of 
flame ! 

And in it danced distorted forms too horrible to name ! 

And on the hearth the Fiend still sat ! I fainted with 
affright ! 

But rose next morn to trace the cause the moment there 
was light. 

The Fiend was but a tabby cat ! the globe of flame I 
saw, 

A shade of paper for the lamp — such as my sisters draw ! 

'Twas traced with ghosts and skeletons from charnel- 
houses damp ! 

It isn't nice to have a Deadly Nightshade for one's lamp ! 



30 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 



HEARTS-EASE. 

I've peeped at Parisian bowers, 

I've rambled to Naples and Rome ; 

But, weary of costlier flowers, 

I now gather HEARTS-EASE at home : 

No hotbed henceforth shall be tried, 

It grows best by my own fireside. 

/ think a fat man is a Fool, 

Who goes voyaging and coaching about ; 
The Foreigners call him John Bull, 

As if all the English were stout ! 
In London I'm sure people stare, 
I'm a great curiosity there ! 

At Dover they rumpled my best coat, 
And swore, like unmannerly Brutes, 

I had contraband lace in my waistcoat, 
And Eau de Cologne in my boots ! 

In vain I cried, " Why will you doubt mo ? 

I've nought unsubstantial about be." 



HEARTS-EASE. 31 



My Bootmaker yearly enlarges 

His Bill, with the growth of my calf ! 

And my Tailor increases his charges, 
And books me " a coat and a half! " 

He cant raise my small-clothes, how can he ? 

Small Clothes 1 why I never wear any ! 

My Friend Doctor Camomile offered 

To cure my rheumatic attack ; 
But he laughed when I said that I suffered 

A pain in the small of my back ! 
Ah me ! he did nothing but quiz it ! 
" The small of your back ! pray where is it ? 

If ever they put me in fetters, 

My bondage eternal must be ; 
For if they enlarge other Debtors, 

I'm sure they will not enlarge me I 
They'll make light of my claims if they will, 
Yet i" shall look big at them still. 

Young Cupid will never o'ertake me, 
No, no, I must pine on the shelf; 

If ever I'm match 'd, he must make me 
A Fatima fat as myself : 

But never again will I roam, 

I'm content with my Hearts-ease at home. 



32 WEEDS OF WITCHERY. 

I'm sure I don't envy the Lovers 
Of sport, though inactive and lame ; 

I've not far to go for the covers 

Under which the Cook places my game 

Three courses I manage myself, 

And I've got my Preserves on a shelf ! 

In France, for this exquisite dinner, 
A nap they would charge me at least ; 

But here, after all, I'm a winner, 
A nap I secure by the feast. 

And of the past dreaming, at last, 

Recollection becomes a repast ! 

My dogs either beg a titbit, 

Or curl themselves up on the rug ; 

And I in my easy chair sit, 
Luxurious, silken, and snug : 

And my HEARTS-EASE I trust is secure, 

For I have not forgotten the Poor. 



THE END. 



LONDON : 
F. SHOBERI., JUN., LEICESTER STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE, 



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